Winter rains
Turns the deserts green
Water drains
Into the dead sea serene
Flowers bloom within sandy grains
Yet somehow the pretty red flower stretches to gleam
Here in the holy land, the innocence of the poppy retains
Until it was processed and fed to the fiend
Who longs for a fix, a release from his chains
The pain is heard in a million deafened screams
But on this day it's peacefulness remains
Standing there and the wind blows over me like lost dreams
Alive and happy only when it rains
YOU ARE READING
Heroin
Poetrya story about a time at the Dead Sea surrounded by life caused by the deserts winter rain
